


Empty Isn't Just a Gut Feeling

by Nyctae



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Logic | Logan Sanders-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 08:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20811941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyctae/pseuds/Nyctae
Summary: There are some facts that people just know:The sky is blue.Grass is green.Telling Roman you hate Disney will lead to an argument.Only Logan takes out the trash.Logan is a bulimic. Patton finds out and confronts him, but it does not go as planned.





	Empty Isn't Just a Gut Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> The Sides are all human and roommates.  
This story is not connected to "Excuse Me."
> 
> **Warning:** There is eating disorder-esque imagery in this. There is purging and binge-eating.  


Logan always took out the trash. The other three would put their trash cans outside their rooms the night before, and the next morning, Logan would fill trash bags from all the bins in the house <strike>and throw away his shame</strike>. He would then return the bins to their respective room before leaving for classes.

* * *

Thursday was an awful day. During his first class, Logan found out he had underperformed on his calculus test that he felt so confidently on. He received a bright red B with a patronizing ‘Nice job!’ at the top of his paper. A B. Never had Logan done so poorly in math.

He shouldn’t have been so surprised though; he had eaten nothing that Monday to counteract a binge from the prior day. He knew that this was an illogical way to deal with binging and was doing more harm than good, but it didn’t stop him.

He did not need help, however. He didn’t need his friends to worry unnecessarily. He wasn’t sick. 

He **wasn’t** sick.

<strike>He wasn’t thin enough to be sick</strike>.

Logan shoved the test into his bag, and for the rest of class, he sat in shame, berating himself silently for messing up so badly. Calculus was supposed to be one of his best subjects, yet he had gotten a B. It was unacceptable. He spent the rest of class with his head down, harshly scribbling notes as his professor droned.

Physics went just as bad as calculus. The first half was of the class wasn’t awful; the class watched the demonstrations the professor did to help her students understand the material. The demonstrations themselves weren’t that interesting, but Logan liked his professor. She was respectable and taught effectively, but she also made sure to be entertaining enough to keep the class engaged. Just sitting to watch the demos was a welcome change of pace from the usual fast paced lectures. The second half of class, however, was not as laid-back. There was a pop quiz. As Logan was walking up to turn his quiz in, he realized a stupid mistake he made in a series of questions, but it was too late to turn and change his answer. He handed the paper to his professor who accepted it with a smile before he turned on his heel and sat back in his seat. 

Two “failed” assessments in the same week: a new record.

Since he only had two classes on Thursdays, he tutored for a bit of extra money. He walked to the library and arrived with a few minutes to spare. As he walked past the vending machine, his stomach growled, and the coins in his pocket jangled. They called out to him in a deafening roar until he caved. He purchased two chocolate bars from the ungodly machine that innocently sat and mocked him in the vestibule of the library. 

He sat in the usual study room to wait for his tutee. Within a few minutes, the chocolate was gone, and the wrappers sat on the barren table. Thoughts of self-hatred swirled violently through his head. 

_ Eating candy and ruining your diet. _

_ No point in trying anymore today. _

_ You’ve ruined it all again. _

_ You always ruin it. _

_ You messed up on your tests too. _

_ What kind of astronomer can’t understand basic math and science? _

_ What’s the purpose anymore? _

_ What's _ ** _your _ ** _ purpose? _

_ Why are you still here? _

_ You should just give up. _

_ Just give up. _

_ Give up. _

_ Give up. _

** _ Give. Up._ **

“‘Sup,” a voice greeted, breaking Logan from his trance of despair. The man waved with a smirk as he sauntered over to the table. He shrugged off his leather jacket and threw it over the back of the chair before sitting down. “So this trig shit is stressing me out. I don’t get how to…”

The tutoring session was nothing special. Logan helped where he was needed, he got paid, and the two walked in separate directions. Logan’s walk ended with him at a burger place. His day was already ruined. Why not add binging to the list of things gone wrong? He ordered a burger and fries, starting his journey back home.

The house was thankfully empty: Virgil working at the nearby coffee shop, Patton at the veterinary clinic, and Roman at theatre rehearsal. Just in case someone returned early, Logan hid away in his room to eat the food as he reviewed his calculus and physics notes.

"Kiddos, it’s dinner time!” Patton’s voice rang throughout the house. Dinner already? He just sat down a bit ago to study. Logan glanced up at the clock. Three hours had passed since he isolated himself in his room. After closing his textbook, he joined Roman and Virgil on their way down to the kitchen. The four began to eat and engage in casual banter and talk of how their day had been.

Once the meal ended, they all cleaned up and put their dishes in the dishwasher before deciding on an impromptu movie night. Logan agreed to watch, and the four squished on the couch to watch the movie Roman chose—_The Little Mermaid _. 

The four split off at the end of the movie. Patton went to bake with Roman while Virgil and Logan retreated to their rooms. Virgil went to watch videos on conspiracies while Logan returned to the studying he had abandoned hours ago.

His studying was rendered useless an hour later when his head was full of angry, shouting thoughts. His stomach felt heavy and like he had swallowed a tonne of lead. He shut his book, grabbed a few plastic bags from the closet, shoved them in his coat pocket, and left his room.

He passed the kitchen on his way to the front door. He stopped when he saw Patton and Roman—hands and pants covered in flour and other ingredients—as they were laughing. Between laughs, they sang lines of Disney songs. The heavenly smell of baking cookies permeated the air. He continued walking.

“Oh, Lo! Where are you going?” Patton called, poking his head out of the kitchen. Logan’s hand was turning the doorknob.

“I am going to the library to study.”

“Alright. Be safe and don’t overwork yourself.”

“I will do my best not to,” Logan faltered. “Good luck with your cookies.”

“Thanks, kiddo!” Patton smiled before stepping back into the kitchen. The laughter and singing returned, and Logan shut the door behind him.

Logan was planning on going to the library, but he had a different priority to deal with first. He hid next to the garage where he was invisible to his friends and the random passersby on the street. It only took two fingers for the nice spaghetti made by Patton to be reduced to nothing but disgusting bits of intact solids and acidic bile that stung Logan’s throat and coated his mouth. He tied off the bag and dropped it in the trash can before leaving, finally heading to the library.

It was relaxing to read a fictional book instead of forcing himself to continue the cycle of learning and reviewing class material. It felt incredible to just be able to escape his problems in a fantasy world.

Until the book ended. Logan’s respite ended with it, and his mind was forcibly jerked back into reality. The stress of the past week finally hit him all at once, and he craved food—a temporary comfort from the cruelness of the world.

It was midnight by the time he finally got home. He had stopped at a store on his way home and bought some doughnuts, chips, and a cupcake. Everyone was already in their rooms when he returned. He grabbed two bottles of water before heading to his room where he dropped the bag on the ground. He ate everything he bought, drinking intermittently. First, he went through the doughnuts: glazed, chocolate frosted, strawberry frosted, strawberry jelly, raspberry jelly, old-fashioned. He ate the sickeningly sweet cupcake—the chocolate frosting nearly hidden beneath all the coarse sugar. His stomach was hurting, but he finished with the bag of barbeque flavoured chips. 

He looked around at his surroundings. His floor was a mess from all he had bought during the past week. His bed was unmade. His desk was a mess of papers tossed recklessly during frantic studying. He felt the receipts and candy wrappers from the library crinkling in his pants pocket, and he felt angry. He stood up. He grabbed the wrappers out of one pocket and threw them into the top drawer of his dresser. He pulled the receipts out of the other pocket and chucked them at his desk. They missed and gently swayed onto the floor beneath.

He was upset. He was stressed. His stomach hurt. His head was swirling with horrible thoughts. He let himself sink to the floor. He began to cry. His cries were quiet, of course; he couldn’t risk waking up any of his friends.

A few minutes later, he pulled himself together. He grabbed a plastic bag and headed outside. The contents of his stomach ended up in the bag, which was promptly dropped in the garbage. He rinsed his mouth in the kitchen sink before undressing and slipping into bed. He focused on his breathing, trying to quell the feelings of shame running rampant in his head.

* * *

Logan fell asleep around 2 and subsequently slept through his 7 A.M. alarm. Running late, he haphazardly threw his textbooks into his bag, got dressed, and rushed out the door. He didn’t have time to take out the trash. 

But Patton did.

Patton had time before his shift at the vet clinic. He emptied all the bins into trash bags before returning the bins to their respective rooms, but Logan didn’t have his trash can outside his room. Patton knew he was having a bad week and wanted to help him out. Having a clean room always helps, right?

Patton cracked open the door and peered into the room, dropping the trash bag in his hand. He swung the door all the way open. He stepped in and took a look into the state of Logan’s head.

At one point, there was a simple wooden desk that sat cleanly in the corner of Logan’s room. Now all that was visible was a whirlwind of assignments, tests, notes, and receipts; some of which had cascaded onto the black office chair and the floor below. Nothing was allowed to be left on the floor in Logan’s room, but takeout boxes and greasy fast food bags also broke that rule as they lay scattered across the floor. Across from the desk, the top dresser drawer was left open to reveal its secrets. Amongst the neatly folded and organized pyjamas were eye-catching metallic candy wrappers and chip bags, crumpled and thrown on top. This was not Logan’s room.

Patton stepped towards the desk before stopping himself. It would be wrong to look through Logan’s stuff without permission, but something was wrong with Logan. He needed to understand what was happening to be able to help him. He finished the journey to the desk, dancing around to avoid the debris on the floor.

He began the task he set out to do. He began to organize the papers, putting the notes, assignments, and tests into three neat piles. A single B amongst all the A’s caught his eyes: calculus. Everyone knew it was one of Logan’s favourite subjects—second only to astronomy. Patton winced in sympathy, knowing Logan was probably beating himself up over the one imperfect grade, but he brushed it off and finished the pile.

Next were the receipts. He began to pick them up off the floor before organizing them by date. He had to know when this started. The oldest receipts dated back months ago, and the majority of them were from grocery stores and restaurants. When he was done, he sighed and looked to see what to do next.

The open dresser drawer called to him, so he approached it. He peered in, taking note of the subtle lumps beneath the pyjamas and wrappers. He moved the wrappers aside and took out a pajama shirt. A bottle hit the floor and rolled when the shirt unfolded. Patton picked it up to examine it. It was a bottle of diet pills.

Now worried, he began to look through all the clothes in the top drawer, finding bottles of more diet pills and laxatives: Hydroxycut, Alli, Meratrim, Forskolin, Miralax, Dulcolax, Senokot. Most of the bottles were empty. Patton didn’t know what to do, so he returned the empty bottles to their original spots. He refolded the pyjamas and placed them back in the drawer and shut it. He took the partially full bottles with him and threw them in the trash bag. 

It didn’t take a genius to put the puzzle pieces together, and Patton couldn’t stop thinking about what Logan was doing to himself. He took the trash out to the bin in the garage. When he opened it, he was hit with a foul smell. The garbage absolutely reeked and smelt acidic. He looked into the bin only to see tied plastic bags. Patton got more worried as things just kept looking worse and worse. He shut the lid, rolled the bin to the end of the driveway, and went back in the house.

Logan wasn’t spindly like Virgil or toned like Roman, but he was only a bit overweight. No one around him thought anything of it, and it didn’t severely impact his health negatively. He didn’t need bottles upon bottles of sketchy diet pills and laxatives.

There wasn’t anything he could do now. He’d confront Logan when they were both home, but now he had to go to work.

When Patton returned from his shift, Logan was already back from his classes and was sitting on the couch in the living room.

“Hi, Logan. How was your day?” Patton began, hanging his coat by the door.

“You went in my room.” So much for a greeting.

Patton was caught off guard and stammered, “Well, uh, yeah. You forgot to take out the trash today, so I thought I’d help you out because you’ve been having a bad week.”

“So you went in my room?” Logan’s voice was cold and flat.

“Logan…”

“No! You cannot just go in my room! I have explicitly expressed that I do not want anyone in my room. You do not see me or anyone else going through your room,” Logan yelled, narrowing his eyes at his friend.

Patton sighed and sat down next to him. “I’m sorry that I went into your room without permission. I was trying to help you, but we need to talk about what was in your draw-”

Logan quickly interrupted, “No, we really do not. There is no need to discuss this. I accept your apology, but I am still upset.” He stood up. “I’m going to go outside to calm down.”

“By throwing up and throwing it away in the garage?” Patton asked without thinking. Regret. Logan froze, and his anger was immediately replaced by fear.

_ He knows. _

** _ He knows._ **

_ Run. _

_ Get out. _

_ Don’t come back. _

Patton noticed the shift in Logan’s behaviour and swallowed before continuing, “Logan, I know something is wrong. You have bottles of laxatives and diet pills... And so many of them are empty! That isn’t healthy.” Patton sighed shakily. “I-, we want to help you, Logan. You could end up sick or hurt or, or dead!” Tears shone in Patton’s bright eyes.

Logan pulled on a calm facade again and shook his head. “Patton, I assure you, you are mistaken." He stood up and walked out of the living room towards his room.

“Logan, come back!” Patton quickly followed, setting a hand on Logan’s shoulder when they stood in the doorway. “You know I’m right! I saw it, Logan! You’re abusing pills, and, and you’re throwing up after you eat, and-”

Logan spun around to look at Patton and growled, “Everything is fine. I am not sick.” He’s too fat to be sick. “There is nothing wrong, Patton. Now I would appreciate it if you kept this between us and just dropped it.”

So Patton dropped it. 

There was nothing else he could do. Logan wasn’t listening to him, and he wasn’t in any sort of imminent danger that would require seeing a doctor or hospitalization. He couldn’t force Logan to accept his help—as much as he wished he could. He decided to not tell Virgil or Roman unless it got significantly worse. There was no use in riling Logan up more by having more people to confront him. He simply blinked away the tears in his eyes, removed the hand that rested on Logan’s shoulder, turned, and walked out.

He would never admit that the slam of the door a second later made him jump or that it brought a fresh wave of tears to his eyes.

* * *

Someone who doesn't want to be helped can't be helped.  
  


Logan didn’t want help.  
  


Logan didn’t need help.  
  


After all, Logan wasn’t sick.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! I apologize for not posting anything in this fandom for over a year.  
I hope you enjoyed this fanfic, and please leave any criticism to help me improve my writing.  
Thanks to [Svedjik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svedjik) for editing this.  
Check me out on Instagram: [@vi.nyctae](https://www.instagram.com/vi.nyctae/?hl=en)


End file.
